


The Truth (Ang Katotohanan)

by rustyHalo



Category: El Filibusterismo, Noli Me Tangere
Genre: Filipino Literature, Jose Rizal - Freeform, M/M, Sick Historical Novel Desecration, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-07-03
Packaged: 2017-11-09 02:20:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rustyHalo/pseuds/rustyHalo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Suddenly, he hears light, quick footsteps approaching the big, old tree. He gets up off his knees and bows his head, thanking God and his mother for watching over him and praying his life would not end tonight.</p><p>He turns around. He is baffled into silence. Basilio kept such a detailed account of each year, and so far, this is the first time in thirteen years that anyone ever came to this place. That is, as far as he knew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Truth (Ang Katotohanan)

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive me, Jose Rizal, national hero, and my favorite hero, too. I have sinned against you, against your nationalism (not really), and against your work. But this story was juicy, too juicy to not write fanfiction about! There was too much meaning in all the things that it wasn't hard to give more meanings to the meanings! It's not my fault you are the master of all metaphors. In fact, you are the god of all metaphors, and Dave and Dirk Strider can suck it because it's true. So, really, I am sorry for this, Ginoong Rizal. Rest in peace, please, and believe in me, that I am the hope of the country, that I will make a difference, that my idealism will live on until my ripe ages.

Basilio stands under the tall calachuchi tree near the bank of the Pasig River. He kneels with one knee on the carabao grass that has grown on the lump of soil he visited yearly.

This is the grave of his mother. This is where his childhood officially ended, and his dreams of achievement and revenge begun. This is where he pours his heart out, murmuring messages of sadness and longing.

This is also where a chest of treasure was hidden, which was partially the reason for his annual return. He would check if anyone would come to retrieve the riches, never taking anything unless he was in dire need, always watchful of the dark sky and the rustling of the trees.

Suddenly, he hears light, quick footsteps approaching the big, old tree. He gets up off his knees and bows his head, thanking God and his mother for watching over him and praying his life would not end tonight.

He turns around. He is baffled into silence. Basilio kept such a detailed account of each year, and so far, this is the first time in thirteen years that anyone ever came to this place. That is, as far as he knew.

He finds his voice again, finally. "What are you doing here?"

The man steps forward into the moonlight and takes off his hat.

"Simoun, tell me why you are here?"

Basilio tries to keep calm and erase the anger and hatred in his heart. _This is a special place, Basi,_ he tells himself. _Nanay wouldn't like it if you got mad at this time of day. Remember what you felt about Tatay._

Suddenly, something snaps into place in his head. His mind races a million miles an hour, and once he got it together, whispers, "Simoun, are you...Crisostomo Ibarra?"

Simoun's head snaps up. "What...how...?"

"So, it is you. Did you...happen to know Manong Elias?"

Only silence is heard from the older man.

Basilio sighs. He reaches for something in his coat pocket. "Manong Elias wanted you to have this."

The young gentleman holds an envelope in both his hands, yellowed from the thirteen years he hid it from everyone, waiting for someone who even barely knew his hero, Elias.

He steps forward, but keeps the envelope in his hands. "Manong Elias told me to tell you this before you read the letter."

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and recalled the words Elias used himself, practiced endlessly for thirteen years with the accompanying thought of who this man really was.

"Manong Elias told me to tell you to not be worried. You will be alright; he will watch over you. He said you should not be afraid. Do not blame yourself for his death. He did what he can to save you. He said it will be okay. He said..."

He opens his eyes and looks at Simoun--Crisostomo. The older man has his head down, his long hair dancing in the cold evening wind.

"...I believe you would be better off reading this."

Basilio hands him the fragile envelope, turns his back on him, kneels at his mother's grave, and leaves.

Simoun--Crisostomo. He prefers being called this now more than ever.

Crisostomo opens the envelope, slowly, carefully, afraid that the wind will blow away the last remnants of Elias's life. He unfolds it, and with a chill creeping up his spine, starts reading.

_Ibarra,_

_This may be the only thing I can give you with all my heart, aside from my promise of protecting you with all that I am. I will take advantage of this, of the time I have, for I did not learn how to write in Ateneo only for the sake of writing. I learned because I believed it will make a difference. I just hope it really does._

_I am puzzled as to why you chose me over Maria Clara. I know you loved her, and maybe you still do. I know you sacrificed everything, even your reputation, to be with her. But here you are, sleeping in my small boat while we wait for the end of our...happiness._

_It is an honor to be chosen by you over the most beautiful woman in San Diego. I am happy beyond comprehension that you are right here, beside me, until the end._

_It is an honor to be loved by you._

_I want you to know that you are the only one in my heart. I was born with a curse, fated to take revenge on your grandfather, but I am here now living for you. Living to save you. Living to love you._

_Please do not be sad. Remember that I will always be beside you, even when I die. I will protect you from where I will be. I will save you even if The Almighty does not allow me._

_Most of all, I will love you beyond death._

_I can hear the gunfire and the footsteps of the guards. I promise that this letter of mine will get to you whatever it takes, however long it takes, although I have the feeling you will not be reading this all too soon._

_I love you so much, Crisostomo. Do not ever forget that._

_Elias._

He finds himself against the calachuchi tree, hitting the trunk with his fist, and with every hit, a new flower falls, floats with the wind, and sails in the silent rush of the Pasig River, memories, loved ones and promises swimming away, but remaining in his heart all the same.

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> The letter to Ibarra was originally in Tagalog. I translated it myself into English because I guess more people will understand that way. I strongly suggest reading Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo. They are the best novels ever, I swear I am not kidding. They are the only things I love more than Harry Potter. (Homestuck isn't considered a novel so fuck you.)
> 
> Dear lard I am sorry for this. Please go projectile vomit now.
> 
> (Actually, I am so NOT sorry. I love EliBarra it is my number one historical OTP. EliBarra 5ever!)


End file.
